


Race Against Time

by Miko no da (Miko)



Category: The Cell (2000), Weiß Kreuz
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-01-01
Updated: 2000-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-09 13:31:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3251567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miko/pseuds/Miko%20no%20da
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A serial killer is stalking the streets of Tokyo, and his latest victim is all too close to Weiss... </p><p>(Posting OLD fics off my defunct website)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"This guy's a real sicko," Ken commented with a kind of morbid fascination as he flipped through the mission photos. Picture after glossy picture showed the pale, almost waxen, lifeless features of the latest victims of the serial killer the media had dubbed 'the Doll Killer'. These were crime scene photos, obtained from the police files by Kritiker, and they showed each victim from dozens of angles.

Omi gulped, looking a little pale himself. "Hidoi," he whispered, the corners of his mouth tightening as he switched to a new set of papers. He'd drawn the job of researching the victims' backgrounds, trying to find a connecting clue the police had somehow overlooked. Of the three jobs, his was the easiest by far, but Ken didn't begrudge it to him. Just an occasional glimpse of the photos was turning the boy a distinct green colour, and he wouldn't be of any use to them if he was busy emptying his stomach in the bathroom.

Youji was scanning the coroner's reports, looking for something that might lead them to the killer's hideout. "You gotta admit he's thorough," the lanky playboy sighed, raking a hand through his hair to pull it off his face. "Not a trace of a damn thing that he couldn't have bought in a grocery store anywhere in the country. No fingerprints, no skin under the victim's fingernails, no blood - nothing."

"There doesn't seem to be any connection between the victims, either," Omi added in frustration. "Just that they're all teenage boys. Backgrounds, education, location - all different. And except for that one set of twins, none of them knew any of the others." He echoed Youji's sigh, slumping back into his seat. "It just doesn't make any sense! Serial killers don't take victims at random - there's always a pattern. 'Young males' just isn't enough of a profile to make sense!"

Ken frowned, staring down at the photos in his hands. There had been eight victims so far, and each of them had been discovered the same way. The bodies had been soaked in bleach, turning the skin an impossible white shade and lightening the hair to pale brown. Then they'd been dressed in hand-made formal clothes and tied to rocks or weights, and dumped into a shallow body of water, floating just beneath the surface so they'd be found before the water had done much damage. A few, who had been found only an hour or so after they'd been dumped, had fading traces of expertly applied makeup on their faces. They looked like grotesque china dolls - hence the nickname.

But the strangest thing of all was the method of death. They'd been drowned, the water in their lungs too pure to be from the same source they'd been found in, leaving their skin flawless and free of marks. Then removed from the water, bleached and dressed, then dumped into these little ponds and lakes. Never the same dumping place, and never anywhere near where he'd first caught them. The bleach removed any fingerprints, and destroyed any bits of skin or hair that they might have been able to get a DNA trace on. The bodies inevitably turned up five or six days after the boy was reported missing, and there was no sign of physical violence of any kind, leading the homicide squad to suspect the victims were being knocked out with gas or chloroform.

Ken shuffled the pictures, selecting the best shots of each of the boys' faces. He lined them up before him, looking for a visual clue as to why these particular boys had been chosen. The last of them had been found two weeks ago now, which meant it was only a matter of days until the killer struck again. The police had no clues, not even the hope of a clue, and Kritiker wasn't doing much better.

He sighed and propped his chin on his fist, leaning his elbow on his knee as he studied the pictures. There had to be some similarity between them! If it wasn't in their backgrounds, then it had to be visual. Omi was right - serial killers always had a profile, something specific they looked for in their victims, and 'young males' was too broad a definition. What else did they have in common?

He blinked, looking a little closer. "Hey, guys..." he said, hesitantly. Omi and Youji both looked up from their work. Ken tapped the photos of the faces. "I think I might have something. Take a closer look at these kids. Ignore the bleach, and the little bit of water damage. What do you notice?"

Omi just blinked at them, uncomprehending, but Youji caught on quickly. "They're all bishounen!" he exclaimed, turning three of the photos around so he could see them right side up. "Omi, do we have pictures of the victims before they were taken?"

Omi nodded and scrambled for another folder, yanking out a set of photos. Most were school photos, taken just a few months ago at the start of the school year, but a few were from family portraits. Every one of the boys was delicate and more than a little feminine in appearance, and each had a striking beauty. Five of the eight had long hair, enhancing the ethereal impression.

"They're all beautiful," Youji said again. "Every one of them. Most of them could pass for a girl with very little effort. That certainly narrows down the profile a little!"

"Could we have a pedophile on our hands?" Ken asked, eyes narrowed as he studied the photos.

Youji shook his head. "No. The reports are very clear on that - no signs of sexual abuse at all. Of course, that doesn't mean he's not attracted to them, it just means he's not actually doing anything about it." He thought for a moment. "He might be angry at his own attractions, and killing off people who arouse them in punishment. Or... Omi, what's wrong?"

Glancing over, Ken saw that Omi was clutching one of the school photos with a death grip, and he looked even paler than before. "I... I know him!" he whispered in shock. "Matsura Ishino. He's in my calculus class! I..." His expression was stricken, his eyes full of guilt. "I didn't even realize he'd been missing. I mean, I knew he wasn't in class, but I thought..." He choked on a sob and turned away.

Ken glanced at the picture Omi was holding. It was the latest victim, kidnapped just two weeks ago. He reached out and put a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder. "Omi, you can't blame yourself. Two weeks isn't really very long to be out of school - you've been out longer than that with injuries sometimes, and no one really says anything about it. He could have been sick, or away, or - you had no way of knowing, so don't feel bad."

Omi shook his head. "We were friends. The other kids always teased him, and I guess I was the only one he could trust to be nice to him. So he always came to me for help with his assignments..." His breath hitched, and his lower lip trembled.

"Omi," Youji said, copying Ken's pose. "I know this is upsetting you. But it might be the break we've been looking for. Can you think of anything that might have set this kid apart, made him different, marked him for this killer?"

Omi drew a deep breath. "He was... well, he was... like that. You know. He didn't like girls. That's why everyone always teased him. I asked him once why he kept his hair so long, since it just gave the other kids more ammunition against him, and he told me that he'd given up trying to hide it a long time ago, and just accepted what he was." He shook his head. "He was very sweet, and very forgiving. He never hated the others for making fun of him, he was just sad that they were afraid of someone just because they were different."

There was a glint of excitement in Youji's eyes. "If we researched these other kids, how much do you want to bet they were all known or suspected to be gay?"

Omi sniffled, wiping away the tears trembling on his lashes with the back of his hand, and turned back to his papers. "It's not in their backgrounds," he said, scanning them rapidly. "But then again, that isn't the sort of thing that gets advertised. It sounds so stereotypical to think that just because they were all pretty, they must all be... like that... but..."

"But if it's the stereotype that he's going for, then we've got our profile," Ken finished for him grimly. "Male, between the ages of fourteen and eighteen - except for that one twenty-year-old, and he looked about sixteen - beautiful in a feminine way, and possibly gay. And that's just the sort of connection the police might not think to look for, too."

"So, what do we do now?" Youji asked, rolling his eyes. "Stake out every cute gay guy in Tokyo?"

"Youji-kun!" Omi spluttered, blushing furiously. Ken had to chuckle at him - he was so cute when he got flustered.

"You better watch out, Omittchi, you fit all but one requirement," Ken teased him. Omi blushed harder.

"Yeah, he might grab you by mistake, bishounen," Youji added, grinning.

"Mou, ii! You guys teasing me isn't going to get this solved any faster!" Omi protested their treatment, flapping the papers in his hand at them.

It might have degenerated into a full-scale teasing session, if Aya hadn't chosen that moment to stalk down the stairs into the mission room. Instantly all signs of levity were gone. "Find anything?" Ken asked their taciturn leader.

Aya shook his head. "Nothing. I checked all the places the bodies were found, and there wasn't a sign of how they got there. No one saw anything suspicious. No sign of boats being dragged up on shore, or tire tracks near the site. I even went to all the places the victims were last seen, but there's nothing there, either."

The others knew just how worried Aya was by the length of that speech. It seemed like the more a mission concerned him, the more he would tend to talk about it. Omi sighed.

"Well, we've got something, but it's not much." Aya glanced at him, one eyebrow raised, and he elaborated. "All the victims are young males, which the police already knew, but they're also very feminine-looking males. And we know for certain at least one of them was... was..." He blushed again.

Youji snickered. "Was gay. Omi, why do you have so much trouble saying that word?"

Omi glared at him. "Because it's rude, Youji-kun! Mou. Anyway, we suspect the others may have been as well. We should try talking to their friends and family tomorrow, if we can manage it without being suspicious."

Aya nodded. "We should also let Manx know, so she can feed the information back to the police. This is one case where I will not mind if we don't get the kill." They all nodded in agreement. This case wasn't anything like their usual missions, but the killer had been so difficult to catch that Kritiker had gotten in on it. If the police were able to solve this one with just a little help on information gathering from Weiss, so much the better.

Omi stood and stretched, glancing around. "Well, I don't see that there's much more we can do tonight," he said, glumly. "Would you guys mind if I went out for a while? I'd like to clear my head, and I kinda half-promised some people from school that I'd hang out with them for a bit tonight, if I had time." There was a semi-wistful look on his face that spoke volumes for his desire to spend some time just being a normal high school kid for a change.

Aya's hard countenance softened, and he nodded. "Go on, Omi, and enjoy yourself if you can. There'll be enough work tomorrow."

Omi smiled sweetly back at them, and bounded for the stairs. "Ja, mata ne! I'll see you guys after cram school tomorrow. Don't wait up for me!"

 

* * *

Omi cursed under his breath and shoved at his bike, labouring to get it up the hill. Of all the nights for his tire to blow out! Ken had warned him that it was looking a little worn, and he'd promised to get it changed, but he'd never gotten around to it. And he'd paid for it with a three-inch nail buried to the head in the rear tire, sending him skidding across the - thankfully empty - road.

He'd been hoping that a rare night out with his lover would help him calm down, and let him relax and clear his head. Instead he hadn't been able to stop thinking about this latest case, his mind running in little circles around it. He couldn't get the photo of Ishino's pale corpse out of his head. His koi had done his best to relax him, but had finally sent him home and told him to get some rest before he drove them both insane.

Omi flushed, and wondered what his teammates would think if they knew that he fit all FOUR parts of the profile. He still remembered the day Ishino had shyly asked him for a date, stuttering and stumbling and blushing so badly that Omi had been afraid he might burst something. He'd been astonished at the offer from his friend, but more shocked at his own anticipatory reaction.

He'd accepted the invitation on an impulse he hadn't fully understood at the time, surprising them both. They'd dated for a few weeks, keeping it secret from both Ishino's family and Omi's teammates, and even fooled around a fair bit. They'd quickly come to the conclusion that although they were friends and fairly attracted to each other, they really weren't suited to a relationship. Omi was too headstrong, and tended to run right over the shyer boy. Also, Ishino was very dependant on his boyfriends, relying on them for his self-esteem and needing them to be around all the time. Between school, the flower shop, and Weiss, Omi just didn't have that kind of time to devote to a relationship. And he really hadn't felt comfortable with all the lies he'd had to make up to explain his frequent disappearances when they had a mission.

They'd agreed to break up and remain friends, and not long after that Ishino had taken up with a cute transfer student from China. That had been more than a year ago, and they'd drifted apart considerably since then, though they kept in touch. Omi would always remember Ishino with fondness, for helping him through the sometimes-painful realization that his preferences were not what most people would call 'normal'. That was why it hurt him so very badly that he hadn't realized Ishino had been missing for so long.

Although he'd come to terms with himself fairly quickly, Omi had continued to keep his relationships secret from his teammates, uncertain how they would react to the news that the youngest Weiss member was more likely to be ogling THEM than the cute girls that surrounded them daily in the shop. It wasn't like there had been a lot to hide - Omi was very picky about his boyfriends, and didn't tend to stay in relationships very long due to his guilt about Weiss.

He glanced up from his musings to realize that he'd reached the top of the hill, and gratefully he saw the lights of a gas station just a few dozen meters away. There was a payphone on the corner of the building, and he'd be able to call home and get someone to come pick him up. He felt bad for disturbing them so late at night, but they were likely still up anyway.

He pushed his bike up to the building and leaned it against the wall, fishing in his pants pocket for some change. Dropping the coins into the slot, he picked up the receiver and started to dial.

He hadn't pushed three buttons before something tugged at his peripheral vision, making him spin around and grab for the darts secreted in his jacket. Too late - a strong hand holding a cloth clamped over his mouth and nose, the free hand grabbing Omi's wrist to keep him from using his weapons. Omi caught a glimpse of a shadowed profile, and wondered how on earth the man had managed to sneak up so close behind him without him noticing.

Though he tried not to breathe, his body's demands won out over his determination, and he inhaled the sickly-sweet odour of the cloth. He recognized the scent of chloroform as his limbs started to go numb, the darts falling from his limp fingers. The last thing he thought as the darkness spiraled up to claim him was that he should have paid more attention to Ken-kun's warning.


	2. Chapter 2

Ken sighed as he swept the last of the flower clippings into the dustpan. It had been an incredibly busy day, and with only he and Youji in the shop, Ken had wound up doing most of the work. Omi was at school, with cram school until late evening, and Aya had been out doing groundwork for the mission, posing as a reporter to talk to the victims' families and friends.

The door chimed, and Ken glanced up, ready to tell the customer that they were about to close for the day. There was always that one last person who just HAD to have a major order filled, right away, who didn't bother to come in until five minutes before closing. Instead he saw Aya, who turned and locked the door behind him, flipping the sign to 'closed' and rolling down the metal shutters.

"Hey, Aya," Ken greeted him. "How'd it go?"

"Our suspicions are confirmed," Aya replied, sitting in one of the chairs at the table. He looked grateful to be off his feet, and Ken couldn't blame him, after all that walking around. "At least six of the dead boys were known or suspected to be gay, including the twins, who were believed to be sleeping with each other." Ken had to raise an eyebrow at that.

"Hey, incest is best - keep it in the family!" Youji replied cheerfully, appearing from the back room. "And the other two?"

"One I couldn't get anyone to talk to me about. The other, the father denied it so vehemently that I suspect he was covering. I think we've got our profile." Aya leaned back in his chair, eyes glittering. "There are still no reports of missing persons fitting that description for the last few days, so our killer hasn't taken his next victim yet."

Ken dumped the clippings in the garbage can, and joined his two teammates at the table. "Or he JUST has, and it hasn't been reported yet," he pointed out as he sat down. "Either way, you can be sure it won't be long. This is the longest he's waited yet."

Youji pulled out a cigarette, clamping it between his lips, though he made no move to light it. Omi had delivered enough lectures about smoking in the shop that he avoided it even when the boy wasn't present and wasn't likely to show up. "Could be he got tired of the game," he commented lazily, leaning back and propping his feet on the table. "Or maybe he's even dead. Bleach poisoning, or something."

"We should be so lucky," Ken snorted. Aya nodded.

"We can't count on that. If a month or more had gone by, perhaps, but not with just two weeks grace." Aya sighed, then stretched, rubbing at the back of his neck. Ken grimaced in sympathy.

"Long day?" He asked.

"Aa. I dislike talking to grieving families," Aya replied. Ken understood what he didn't say - it reminded Aya too much of the pain of losing his own family.

They discussed the details more over the take-out Chinese Aya had brought back with him, trying to figure out what different angles they might take to finding the killer. Short of following Youji's joking suggestion of staking out every pretty gay boy in Tokyo, there really wasn't much for them to go on. There was a grim feeling in the air, as they knew that they likely wouldn't be able to stop this man before at least one other person had died. Ken wondered how the police were able to handle this kind of guilt and stress on a regular basis, and his respect for them went up a notch or two.

It had already been dark for hours when Youji suddenly leaned forward, frowning. "Oi, where the hell is Omi, anyway?" he asked, puzzled. "He should've been back from cram school an hour or two ago, shouldn't he?"

Ken blinked and looked over at the clock. "Hey, you're right. It's not like him not to call and let us know if he's going to be late. Do you suppose something happened to him?"

"You don't suppose..." Youji trailed off, biting his lip. "I mean, we were just joking yesterday when we said he should be careful, but he DOES almost fit this guy's profile..."

"Almost isn't good enough," Aya interrupted him calmly. "He hasn't made a mistake yet, which means he's probably been researching his targets fairly carefully. He's not likely to slip up now."

"And anyway, Omi could handle himself against some creep trying to gas him," Ken added. "He probably just went to a study group or something, and lost track of time. You know midterms are coming up soon."

"Maybe we should call the cram school? See if he left with anyone?"

Ken frowned. "They'd be closed up by now. But we might try calling some of his friends from school. I think he keeps their numbers somewhere in a file on his computer." He shrugged. "It couldn't hurt, I guess." He stood and made his way to the stairs, Youji trailing along behind him. Aya just reached for another fortune cookie.

Thankfully Omi had given Ken the passwords to get into the system some time ago. He booted it up and typed them in carefully, knowing that the younger boy had set up some fairly nasty measures for anyone trying to hack into his computer.

The file with Omi's friends' numbers was right on his desktop, and Ken was moving to click on it when he noticed a little flashing symbol in the tray. Curious, he moved the mouse pointer over it and hovered until the screen tip came up. 'Message from Koi', it said. Ken blinked.

"That's a weird screen name," he muttered. Youji came up behind him and read over his shoulder.

"Maybe little Omittchi's been holding out on us?" he asked, snickering. Ken rolled his eyes.

"Don't be a dumbass, Youji. We'd have noticed by now if he had a girlfriend." He shrugged and clicked on the message. "Might be someone who knows where he is, though."

The computer hummed for a moment, then a dialogue box popped up. /Itoushi, are you there? Why didn't you let me know when you got in?/

Ken blinked. "Itoushi?" he repeated. Youji snickered again.

"He IS holding out on us!" he crowed. Ken shook his head in irritation.

"Youji, cut it out. This is serious. Whoever this is, they obviously expected Omi to message them last night, and he didn't." That sobered up the playboy quickly enough, and they stared at each other.

"Ask her when she saw Omi last," Youji suggested. Ken nodded, and started typing.

/This is Omi's friend, Ken. He didn't come home today, and we're trying to find him. When was the last time you saw him?/

There was a pause as they waited for the response, then the little message symbol blinked in the tray again.

/He left here at eleven o'clock last night, and he said he was going straight home. He usually messages me as soon as he gets in, so I know he's all right. But he never came online./

"Is it possible he just forgot, or was too tired?" Youji asked. Ken typed in the query.

/If he was capable of it, he would have done it. Omi doesn't forget things like that. That's why I was worried./

"Shiiiit..." Ken drew the word out until it felt big enough to cover the seriousness of the situation. /Was he in school today?/

/I don't know, we don't go to the same school. Call one of his friends./

Ken clicked on the file he'd been after in the first place. He grabbed Omi's cordless phone and punched in the first number on the list, listening to it ring. Finally, a young-sounding male voice answered.

"Nakamura residence, Kazuhiro speaking."

That was the name on the list, so Ken replied, "Kazuhiro-kun, this is Hidaka Ken. I live with Omi. We're trying to find him. Do you know if he was in school today?"

There was a surprised pause on the other end. "Tsukiyono-kun? No, he was absent today. We all figured he was just sick again, he misses so much school anyway. He didn't come to cram school, either."

Ken swore again, then hastily apologized to the boy on the other end. "Could you call us if you hear from him, please? And ask anyone else he might get in touch with to do the same?"

"Do you think something's happened to him? The sensei just told us today about Matsura-kun..." The boy on the other end was definitely scared now.

"It might be nothing at all - he's only been missing since last night. But please, if you could just call us... do you have the number here?"

"Hai. I'll get in touch with all our other friends too."

"Arigatou. I'll let you know if he comes back, so you won't worry." Ken hung up, then cursed creatively. "He never showed up at school this morning, and he missed cram school as well." Quickly he bent over the keyboard once more.

/You're the last person who saw him. Can you tell me exactly where you know he last was?/

There was a very long pause, and Ken wondered if the message hadn't gone through. He was about to try typing it again, when the reply came.

/It's sort of complicated./

Youji shoved Ken aside and laboriously typed, /Can you meet with us to talk? We need to get all the details./

Again there was an incredibly long pause, as Youji and Ken stared at one another worriedly. Finally, /All right. Meet me in the park south of your place in half an hour. It'll take me that long to get there./

Ken typed in his agreement, and turned the computer off again. "We'd better tell Aya," he said, and Youji nodded. They bolted for the first floor.

 

* * *

Half an hour later all three of them approached the park, concerned and worried for their friend. It was one thing for Omi to lose track of time with his friends and forget to call to tell them he'd be late, although that would be unusual enough in and of itself. But for him to miss the entire day of school, possibly not even coming home the night before, was another thing entirely.

It was starting to fog up as they'd left the Koneko, and by the time they made it to the park the streets were eerie beneath the lamps. They could just make out a dark-haired figured perched on one of the benches, facing them, haloed by a streetlight. As they got closer, the person stood, holding their hands out to their side as if to say 'I'm unarmed.' But why would they feel the need to...

Ken froze as he finally got a glimpse of the person's face, and heard Youji hiss behind him. "You!"

Nagi faced them calmly, keeping his arms out to his sides unthreateningly. Of course, that gesture didn't mean a whole hell of a lot when you were a telekinetic who didn't need to use his hands. He stared at them, gaze level and steady, as if daring them to attack him first.

"What are you doing here?" Aya demanded, looking like he wanted his katana at least as badly as Ken wanted his bugnuks.

Nagi just blinked at him, unruffled by their obvious hostility. "Ken asked me to meet him," he replied softly. Ken's eyes widened as he realized the implications.

"You're 'Koi'?" he blurted out, startled. Nagi's mouth quirked briefly, as though he was fighting a smile.

"Is that what he's got me re-named as?" There was a thread of amusement in the younger assassin's voice. "Cute. Which is typical of him, I suppose. My usual screen name is Kodoku."

"But you're... why would he..." Ken stammered, searching for words.

"Call me 'koi'?" Nagi supplied for him helpfully. Ken nodded. "Probably because that's what he usually calls me in person. At least, when we're alone." His smirk looked suspiciously like he'd been taking lessons from Schuldich, and Ken turned red and spluttered.

"Enough!" Aya's voice cut into Ken's incoherence, calming him a little. "If you're trying again to convince us that Omi is a traitor, you will not succeed," the redhead said in his iciest tone of voice. Nagi sighed.

"He's not a traitor, and neither am I - though if Crawford or Schuldich ever found out about this, they'd likely kill us both. We've been friends on the net for years, long before Weiss even existed. A few months ago we agreed to meet each other in public and," he shrugged carelessly, "after a lot of fights and arguments, we agreed to keep our lives as assassins separate from our friendship." Though he tried to hide it, there was a wistful look in his eyes similar to the one Omi sometimes had as he added, "It was nice having someone I didn't have to hide anything from."

The Weiss assassins digested that for a long moment, and he watched them, never losing his calm. "All right, so you're friends. That doesn't explain why he'd call you 'koi'," Ken finally said.

Nagi stared at him. "You mean you really HAVEN'T figured it out?" he asked in patent disbelief. "He said you hadn't, but I didn't think even you were that unobservant..."

Youji growled at him. "What are you talking about?"

Nagi rolled his eyes. "Omi's about as straight as a pretzel. We've been lovers for most of the last two months."

"But Ouka...!" Ken protested, gaping.

"Was a crush," Nagi retorted. "Which, you'll note, he was perfectly happy to abandon in order to treat her as a sister. And she is, to my knowledge, the ONLY girl he's ever even looked twice at."

Aya opened his mouth to say something, but before he could get a word out Ken grabbed at his arm, turning pale. "Aya! That means Omi DOES fit the profile! All of it!"

"Fuck!" Youji exclaimed. "Does anyone else know about Omi's preferences?" he demanded of Nagi.

Nagi blinked at him, clearly confused. "Most of his school, I think. He doesn't exactly make an effort to keep it secret, though he certainly doesn't go around talking about it. What profile?"

Aya studied him for a long moment, before replying. "We're tracking a serial killer right now. His profile is young, beautiful males who are known or suspected to be gay." He paused significantly. "He's overdue to take another victim."

Nagi's eyes widened and he turned even paler than Ken. "But then... if Omi's missing..." The idea was clearly upsetting to him, a fact that earned him a few points in the Weiss members' estimations. "We have to find him! How long until..."

"Five days," Ken answered in a harsh whisper. "The bodies are found after five days, drowned. And he's already been missing for most of a day." All four assassins stared at one another, hatreds and differences forgotten in their concern for their friend.

 

* * *

Omi woke slowly, head pounding. There was a very bright light shining above him, flickering almost imperceptibly in the way that fluorescent lights did. The surface beneath his back was solid and hard, but his left arm was dangling down over an edge. His head was still swimming, but he didn't feel injured at all, so he made himself sit up slowly.

He was alone, in a very strange little room. The floor and two of the walls were made of ceramic tile, of the sort you usually found in bathrooms. The other two walls were either glass or clear plastic, and the room beyond them was dark. The light was coming from the ceiling, about twice his height off the ground. There were several pipes running along the ceiling, with what looked like little nozzles or spouts at regular intervals. In one corner was a utilitarian urinal, and the only other furniture in the room was the metal bench he was lying on, which was bolted to one of the ceramic walls.

One hand on his head to try to keep it steady, he stood and wobbled over to the clear walls. His strength was coming back quickly as the drug wore off, the vague numbness replaced quickly with fear. He couldn't see any kind of door at all, and he wondered how his kidnapper had gotten him into the room.

Once he was up next to the plastic, he could make out a video camera on a tripod a few feet away. He stared at it, eyes wide.

"Who are you?" he whispered, wondering if there was a sound pickup as well. "What do you want with me?" There was no answer, of course, and he turned to try to find the way out.

Fifteen minutes later he glumly concluded that the door must be in the ceiling high above him. If he'd had a rope of any kind he could have slung it over one of the pipes and climbed, but he hadn't been expecting any trouble when he'd left the shop, so he'd only brought a few darts as an emergency backup weapon. Those, he noted quickly, were gone. There was no way for him to climb the walls and check out the ceiling.

He tried pounding on the plastic walls, but they were several inches thick and didn't even bend no matter how hard he threw himself against them. He tried prying the bench away from the wall, hoping to bash at the walls with it, but the bolts were tight and wouldn't budge. Finally he collapsed back down onto the bench, trying to keep the fear encroaching on his mind at bay so that he could think.

"The others will realize I'm missing soon," he said aloud, just to hear a voice in the eerie quiet of the room. He shivered as the acoustics made his voice echo back strangely. "This HAS to be the same guy we're already looking for. The victims were drowned, and less than a day before they were found, so I've got about four days grace, depending on how long I've already been in here. I'll be fine, I just have to keep from panicking until the guys find me."

He'd already checked to see if he still had his homing beacon, hoping to activate it and let the others find him more quickly, but it had been taken with the darts. He tried to convince himself that they would find him soon anyway, but in his heart he knew they'd had very few leads. They'd all known that they likely wouldn't find the killer before he took another victim. The fact that his next victim had been Omi himself didn't change things - in fact, it only slowed them down.

He was working on some relaxation techniques he'd learned from Kritiker, when the first spray hit him. The water from the pipes was shockingly cold, and he shrieked with surprise at the first blast, jumping to his feet. Frantically he shielded his eyes with his hands, peering upwards towards the source of the sudden downpour.

Only a few of the nozzles were spraying, and a previously over-looked drain in the center of the floor was more than keeping up with the flow. The water was in no danger of rising. It was, however, absolutely freezing, and Omi started shivering quickly. He scrambled into the only cover the room offered, huddling miserably under the bench, and felt hot tears sliding over the chilled flesh of his cheeks.

"Ken-kun..." he whispered, teeth chattering. "Aya-kun, Youji-kun... onegai, tasukete!"


	3. Chapter 3

It felt distinctly weird to be looking across the sofa in the mission room at one of the Schwartz psychics, Ken decided, shifting uneasily. It had been Aya's suggestion that they go back to the Koneko and fill Nagi in on all the details of the serial murders. Youji and Ken had gaped at him for a moment, before finally nodding in agreement.

Nagi was flipping through the photos now with no sign of emotion on his pale face, except the faint signs of worry and concern that had been there since he'd first heard about the killer. Ken wondered how the boy could stay so cool, looking at the evidence of that kind of violence. Some of his thoughts must have shown on his face when Nagi glanced up as he set the photos aside and reached for the coroner's reports.

"I've seen worse," was all he said, and he shrugged and started reading the reports. Ken shuddered to think what Nagi's life must have been like, if this sort of thing seemed commonplace to him.

Youji was pacing back and forth behind the couch, muttering to himself as he re-read the police investigations of the crime scenes. Aya was leaning up against one wall with his arms crossed over his chest, watching Nagi like he thought the boy was going to try to steal one of the folders or something. Ken just fidgeted in place, still trying to wrap his mind around the idea of Omi and Nagi sleeping together.

Nagi's brows drew together in a frown, and he glanced up. "All the bodies have been bleached like this?" he asked. Aya nodded. "That's an awful lot of bleach, and he'd need some kind of industrial workshop to use and dispose of it safely. You could check manufacturers' records to see if there's been any purchases of industrial bleach that are big enough to cause note, but too small to be for an industrial process. Then cross-reference that with locations where he could be using it."

Youji stopped pacing and stared at him. "Of course! That's obvious, why didn't we think of that before! So we just have to..." he turned towards the computer, then froze, shoulders slumping. "Shit. This is Omi's kind of stuff. I wouldn't even know where to start looking."

"We should tell Manx, have her relay the information to the police so they can start checking," Aya suggested. Nagi made a derisive noise.

"The police will need warrants to check this sort of thing. A separate one for each company. It will take days, maybe weeks. Omi doesn't have that kind of time."

"Well, what do you suggest then?" Ken demanded.

Nagi shrugged. "I could find it in an hour or two. But it will be difficult for me to do this with Schuldich around. My shields are good, but he might pick something up and get curious."

"Could you use Omi's computer?"

"Ken!" Youji protested. "That thing has all of Weiss' mission files on it, not to mention unrestricted access to Kritiker's computers!"

The telekinetic rolled his eyes. "I could hack into Kritiker's computers any time I felt like it," he told them off-handedly. "In fact, I've done it a couple of times, just to prove I could. Their security is more challenging to break than most systems, which makes it more interesting. And I'm not going to see anything in your files that Schu wouldn't be able to get with one look into your heads."

"You're bluffing," Aya said coldly. "If you four were really as powerful as you all keep claiming, you'd have beaten us long ago."

Nagi gave him a 'boy, are YOU out of the loop' look. "We don't WANT to beat you," he said slowly, as if explaining something to a particularly inept child. "We're toying with you. You're amusing. And Brad says that we need you alive, though he won't tell us what for. Just that you have roles he needs you to fill."

The idea that they were playing into Crawford's plans for them didn't sit well with any of them, but there wasn't much they could do about it. Finally the younger boy sighed and shook his head.

"Look - it comes down to this. Which is more important to you - keeping your precious files safe from my eyes, or possibly finding Omi before he ends up as just one more set of photos in a police file?" His dark blue eyes were filled with fire. "I know what my choice is. If I have to, I'll do this alone."

"You really care about him, don't you?" Youji asked in a kind of wondering tone. Nagi stiffened, and shot him a dirty look.

"He's my FRIEND," he said in a dangerous tone of voice. "I know you all think none of us is capable of that kind of emotion, and in a way you're right. If this were anyone else, I wouldn't give a rat's ass what the killer did to them. I may not care about much, but what I DO care about, I'm loyal to. And yes, Omi falls on that very short list."

There was a moment of silence, as the other three tried to think of something to say to that. Finally Aya nodded. "You're right. Omi is the priority here. Use our computer."

Nagi rose and moved over to the computer in the corner. That weird feeling hit Ken again as the younger boy settled into the chair, taking Omi's accustomed place. The computer had already started booting up before he moved, and the main password screen came up. He hovered his hands over the keyboard, and looked back at them.

"Do you know the passwords, or am I going to have to hack this?"

Ken gave him the passwords, and the keys clattered. Nagi didn't move his hands from above them, just frowned slightly in concentration. In moments he was logged on and on the net, screens flying past so quickly Ken wondered how he could read them.

It was fascinating to watch him working, see the keys move as ghostly fingers flew over them, watch his eyes shift back and forth across the screen so fast it was a wonder he didn't get dizzy. Finally, after about half an hour of work, the image on the monitor became static, and he leaned back in the chair.

"This is it," he said quietly. The Weiss assassins crowded in behind him, looking at the list. "All the purchases of industrial bleach of approximately the right size in this area over the last four months."

Thankfully the list was fairly short, only about twenty names. "I ruled out any that went to well-known corporations," Nagi said, "but I saved that list as well, in case these don't pan out. It's possible he bought the stuff long ago, of course, but there's no point in worrying about that yet."

"What if he's been buying it a little bit at a time?" Youji asked.

"That's included here as well. These three..." he hit a few keys, and three names were highlighted, "fall into that category. Also, these four..." more highlights in a different colour, "were shipped to residential areas, not industrial complexes."

"It's after midnight," Youji said, glancing at the clock. "If we're going to start looking, now's the time." Aya nodded.

Nagi stood. "I'm coming with you," he said quietly, his tone brooking no argument. Aya looked like he wanted to argue anyway, but Nagi cut him off with just a look. "You're short one person, and if you encounter any kind of security system, you're not going to be able to deal with it. I'm coming with you, and that's final."

It wasn't worth arguing about, because he was right. The last thing they needed to be doing was dodging security guards all night because they'd tripped an alarm. Youji knew a bit about breaking and entering, but he wasn't anywhere near Omi's level of ability.

"Let's go," was all Aya said, and they headed out.

They checked the industrial complexes first, because they would be abandoned at this time of night, and they didn't want to have to deal with any innocents who might be asleep in the houses. Nagi had mapped out an approach that wasted the least time going from one side of the city to the other to get to the next site.

By the time they'd thoroughly searched each building, it was nearly dawn. Nagi's powers had proved invaluable several times, moving heavy equipment out of the way or unlocking doors from the inside when there was no way to pick the lock. The White Hunters were beginning to believe some of the extravagant claims that Schwartz made about their abilities.

There was nothing in the warehouses and labs, no trace of the sort of setup the killer would need. All of the bleach had been accounted for, and all of it had gone to legitimate purposes. Finally they were left with only the four residential addresses.

"Do we do them now, or wait till later?" Ken asked, raking a hand through his hair as he stared over Nagi's shoulder at the considerably shortened list. Nagi shrugged.

"Aren't you going to get in shit for being gone all night?" Youji asked the younger boy curiously. Nagi shrugged again, an oddly flat look in his eyes.

"Crawford doesn't care what we do, as long as he doesn't see anything going majorly wrong because of it. It won't be the first time I've been gone for days at a time. Schu can reach me if they need me." Ken had to wonder what it would be like to work with a group of people that you knew cared nothing about you, except for your abilities. Small wonder Nagi had jumped at the chance for a friendship with someone like Omi.

"People will be beginning to wake up right about now," Aya declared. "We wouldn't be able to get in to any of the houses. Our best bet is to wait for most of them to leave for work, and then break in."

"Say, around ten in the morning?" Youji asked consideringly. Aya nodded. "Great. Well, then we've got just over four hours. What the hell do we do until then?"

"Sleep?" Ken suggested, suiting actions to words by yawning. Youji instantly had to stifle a yawn of his own behind one gloved hand. "We're not going to do Omi much good if we're falling asleep on our feet. Though I doubt I'm going to sleep well, if at all, until he's back."

"We might as well try to rest," Aya agreed. The last business they'd checked had been located only a few blocks from the Koneko, so thankfully they weren't very far from home.

Nagi sighed, looking a little worn himself. "If you need me, I'll be in the park where we met," he said quietly, turning to walk away. Youji stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"The park? Why are you going to the park?"

Nagi looked up at him. "Because if I go back, Brad will find something for me to do, and he'll be pissed of if I don't do it right away. Or worse, he'll decide that I've skipped too much school lately and tell Schuldich to keep an eye on me to make sure I go."

"You go to school?" Ken blurted, finding the idea a little strange.

Nagi frowned at him. "When Brad makes me. Do you think I wear this stupid uniform for the fun of it? I don't see the point of it, but he says I need to have some education. What he thinks I'm going to learn there that I couldn't get twice as fast off the internet, I don't know."

Aya shifted impatiently. "There's no point in your wandering around a park for four hours. You may as well come back with us. That way if something comes up, we won't need to hunt for you."

Nagi blinked at him, and he looked a little surprised. "You're all being very accepting of me trailing along with you," he said quietly. "And much more accepting of my relationship with Omi than either of us expected. Why?"

Surprisingly, it was Aya who answered him. "Because you obviously care for him," he said with an eloquent shrug. "Omi is generally a good judge of character, despite his tendency to see the best in everyone. If he trusts you this much, then I'm certainly not going to turn down your help, when it could make the difference between saving him and not finding him in time."

Nagi stared at him, then turned away abruptly, and Ken could have sworn he saw the glimmer of tears in the other boy's eyes. He turned back nearly as quickly, and if there had been moisture there, it was gone now. Instead there was a look of grim determination on his face. "Fine. Consider it to be a truce between us until we find this bastard. But don't expect me to go easy on you the next time we meet in battle." He turned and walked away towards the Koneko, movements just the slightest bit stiff.

"You know," Youji commented as he sidled up alongside Ken, "I don't think he's nearly as tough as he lets on. I was starting to think Omi'd lost it, going with someone like him, but..."

Ken nodded. "I know. He really cares. It may be just about the only thing in the world he DOES care about, but he really cares. It's still freaking me out a little, about the two of them, I mean, but... I think Omi will be good for him."

"And have you noticed that Omi's been a lot less depressed lately?" Youji said, making sure to keep enough distance between them and the telekinetic that he wouldn't be able to overhear their whispered conversation. "Since just about two months ago, actually... who knows, maybe he's been good for Omi!"

"It wasn't good for him to be so alone," Aya said from behind them, surprising them both again. "He certainly never let any of us see what was really going on inside his head. If they make each other feel less alone, then it can only be a good thing." He strode past them, catching up to Nagi as Ken and Youji stared at each other, speechless.

 

* * *

They were all feeling at least a little better physically when they met again at ten o'clock in the mission room, if not mentally. Nagi had vanished into Omi's room with the hint of a blush on his face, and no one had said anything about it. It was certain Omi wouldn't mind him using his bed, and none of them were going to offer to share with the Schwartz psychic!

They approached the first house on the list with far more caution than they'd treated the industrial sites. They all felt exposed and out of place in the bright daylight, moving through a residential area. Nagi had convinced them all to wear normal street clothes after much argument, pointing out that they'd stand out like sore thumbs in their dark mission clothing. He himself had shed his grey uniform for a pair of Omi's jeans and a t-shirt, saying that there was no point in drawing attention by being obviously skipping school.

There was a beat-up but serviceable looking car in the driveway of the house, and Aya frowned. "Someone may still be at home," he muttered to the others. "How should we approach this?"

Youji scratched his head. "We could say that we're university students, assigned a project to study... uh... the use of asbestos in construction, say. That's a pretty big issue right now. We chose random houses in certain subdivisions, based on the age of the building."

Ken gave him an admiring look. "Sweet! That'll let us poke around all over the place! What if they won't let us in, though?"

He shrugged. "Then we stake out the place and break in when no one's home and do it anyway. If he's home now, with any luck he works night shift or something."

They made their way up to the doorway, and Youji rang the bell. There was no answer for several minutes, though they rang the bell a few more times, and even pounded on the door in case the bell was broken.

"Looks like he's not home after all," Youji said cheerfully. He tried the knob, but the door was locked. "Nagi? Can you get this?"

Nagi nodded and made a brief gesture at the door, and the knob turned smoothly under Youji's hand. They filed into the hallway.

The house was small, and clearly had seen better days. It was clean but plain, the furniture shabby and worn. They moved quietly down the hallway, in case someone was at home and just hadn't answered the door.

They fanned out quickly, each taking a room to search. It didn't take long - Ken cried out to the others in surprise when he came across a body sprawled out on the kitchen floor.

The man's pulse was weak but steady, his breathing slow and even, and his eyes were rolled back into his head when Ken lifted the lids to check. He was unusually pale, and had shaven all the hair from his head. He was clearly a foreigner.

Aya was the last one to join them in the kitchen "We've got our man," he said grimly. "There's a small sewing machine in the basement, and piles of fabric of the type used in the clothes on the victims. He's halfway through a new set, and it looks to be just about Omi's size. No sign of the bleach, though, and wherever he's been keeping the kids, it's not here."

"He's in a coma, I think," Ken said, frowning. "We need to get him medical attention, fast! If he dies before we find out where he's got Omi hidden..." Youji was already moving for the phone on the wall.

"How are we going to explain our presence?" Nagi asked.

"We won't," Youji replied. "I'm calling Manx, not an ambulance." He turned away as the phone was picked up on the other end, and quickly outlined what had happened thus far. He nodded once, then hung up.

"Manx is sending Kritiker's paramedics. They're going to put him up at the police hospital. She said we should wait here, in case he wakes up and tries to get away."

They all looked at the man on the floor, praying that he would wake in time to tell them where Omi was.

 

* * *

Omi only half woke as the spray started again, turning on his stomach and burying his face in his arms. It was warm this time; the water had alternated randomly between freezing, lukewarm, and almost too hot to stand. There didn't seem to be any set pattern to when it would start and stop, either. So far it hadn't been anything but an annoyance, and he was tired enough now that he tried to sleep through it anyway.

It was hard to sleep with water pouring down on you though, and finally he gave up. Yawning and scrubbing his eyes, he moved to sit up, and glanced down in surprise when his feet splashed as they hit the floor.

His eyes widened as he saw that the water was ankle-deep, and rising. Glancing at the drain, he confirmed that there was no telltale swirl indicating the water was being drawn away. The drain was closed!

He panicked for a moment, drawing his feet up onto the bench and hugging his knees to him as he struggled to control his breathing. The water was rising very slowly, and only half the jets were on. It would take a long, long time for the water to get to the point where it would fill the room.

About two or three days, in fact...

Omi shook his head frantically, and made himself calm down. "The toilet," he said aloud, glancing at the white porcelain object in the corner. "It'll act like a drain when the water gets that high." Of course, he could probably close that off, just as he had closed off the drain in the floor...

He grunted, and smacked his head back against the tiled wall, letting the small pain distract him. "They'll find me. I know they'll find me. I'll be okay, I just have to hang on until they get here!"

Standing, he sloshed through the shallow water to press up against the plastic wall, staring at the video camera on the other side. "Please," he whispered, lips barely moving. "Kami-sama, please let them get here in time..."


	4. Chapter 4

They all showed their anxiety in different ways. Aya was in his favourite pose, leaning against the hospital wall with his arms crossed over his chest, glowering at anyone who came into the room. He'd already scared off two nurses and an intern that way.

Youji was pacing back and forth, flipping a cigarette between his fingers. The duty nurse had given him a dirty look when he'd pulled it out, but he'd made no move to light it. He just needed the feel of it in his hands to help calm him.

Ken was slouched into one of the highly uncomfortable plastic chairs, legs stuck out before him and chin on his chest. He was watching Nagi, who had pulled his legs up to sit cross-legged in another chair. The younger boy was staring at a three-year-old little boy on the other side of the waiting room, who was playing with a set of blocks. Each time the boy reached for a block, it would slide out from under his hand. He would chase it, and it would slide away again, leading him in endless little circles. The child was squealing happily, and to anyone who didn't know what to look for, it just looked like he was pushing the block ahead of him. His harried mother certainly looked grateful her son was occupying himself relatively quietly.

Finally Manx appeared at the door, with a white-coated doctor beside her. She gestured at them, and they followed her down the hall to a little conference room. One wall of the room was a window into a treatment room, where the serial killer lay quietly on a bed, hooked up to multiple IVs and other machines.

Manx gave Nagi an odd look when he joined the others, but Aya reassured her with a nod. She shrugged, and gestured for the doctor to begin.

"The patient is in a coma," the doctor said, shuffling a few papers before him. "We've administered various tests, and it doesn't look like he's going to wake up. He's got severe hemorrhaging in the brain, a result of a chronic condition he's had throughout his life."

"You know who he is, then?" Ken asked, wide-eyed. The doctor nodded.

"Yes. His name is Paul Coleman. He's been in and out of hospitals and psychiatric wards for most of his life. I won't go into everything he's been diagnosed with - suffice it to say, he'd been confined some time ago to a mental institution in Osaka, which he escaped from several months ago."

"You're certain he's not going to wake up?" Aya asked, his voice harsh. The man shrugged helplessly.

"It is remotely possible, but it would take a miracle. And with the amount of brain damage he's already sustained, it's unlikely he would be at all coherent. As it is, it will only be a matter of days before he dies."

"But he has to wake up!" Ken blurted, aghast. "He's got our friend held somewhere right now! We have to know where to find him!"

"I'm afraid there's nothing we can do. We must be thankful that this will, at least, be his last victim. Though it's unfortunate that the body may never be recovered..."

The heavy oak table rattled in place as Nagi stood up, glaring at the man. "That's not acceptable!" he snapped, his look frosty enough to rival Aya's.

"I'm sorry. I wish I had better news." The doctor turned and left, Manx trailing after him.

Nagi clenched his fists and bowed his head, as Ken swore viciously. Aya stood. "We will continue searching," he said coldly. "We still have two days at least. We WILL find him."

"We don't have any leads!" Youji replied, throwing his hands up in despair. "We searched the house while we were waiting for the paramedics, and we found nothing! We don't even know where to start looking!"

"We can't just give up!" Ken cried passionately, slamming his hands on the table. "This is Omi's life we're talking about here. There has to be something we can do!"

"There might be a way."

Nagi spoke so quietly that they almost missed his voice. He'd moved to stand at the window, one hand resting against it, his eyes narrowed. "There might be a way," he repeated, but he didn't sound happy about the revelation.

"How?" Youji demanded.

He sighed, and bowed his head. "Somewhere inside that man's head is the location of his prison. If we can't wake him up to get him to tell us - maybe we can get inside his head and find it ourselves."

They stared at him for a long moment, uncomprehending, before Ken finally caught on. "Schuldich."

Nagi nodded. "Schu could dig it out of his brain. It might take him a while with a mind that damaged, but he'd find it if anyone could."

"First we have to convince him to help us," Youji said bitterly. "What are the odds of that?"

"Not good," Nagi replied seriously. "There's no point in appealing to his soft side - he doesn't have one. Left to his own devices, he'd be more likely to sit back and watch us scramble, laughing the whole time at the fact that he was the one person who could save Omi. AND he'd use the information to blackmail me."

"I hear a 'but' in there somewhere," Ken said. Nagi nodded.

"Crawford continually tells us that we need you four alive. For what, I don't know. Even Farf knows he's not allowed to do any permanent damage, on pain of having his knives taken away."

"So we get Crawford to order Schuldich to help, is that it?" Youji asked. "And what are the chances of THAT?"

Nagi shrugged. "I don't know. It depends on how vital it is that all four of you be alive for whatever it is he's waiting for, I suppose. Though if it were truly important, I would think he'd have interfered in this already."

"And what will he do to you, when he discovers your relationship with Omi?" Aya asked him cynically.

Nagi's flat-eyed expression didn't waver, but Ken thought he might have tensed a little. "I suppose it depends on what his various actions will do to impact on the future he's trying to create," he answered with an attempt at a careless shrug. "At the very least, he'll probably ensure that Omi doesn't have a chance to have any more influence over me."

"Influence?" Ken repeated, frowning. Nagi stared at the table.

"Omi... is a bad influence on me, at least from Crawford's point of view. It's hard to hate the world when he's around." He gave a sort of crooked smile that looked like it was trying hard to be a smirk, but was losing the battle to wistfulness. "But it doesn't matter. If Omi dies, then it really won't matter very much if I can still get away with seeing him, will it? I'll talk to Crawford."

"We're coming with you," Aya said, with much the same tone of voice Nagi had used to make the same statement the day before. The Schwartz boy frowned.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea. He may be more inclined to leniency if it doesn't seem like he's being 'soft' in front of his enemies. Then again..." he shrugged. "He might like the idea of you feeling like you owe him something. He's hard to figure, sometimes. It all depends on what his visions show him."

"We're going," Aya said again, and that was final.

After some debate, they agreed that it would be foolish for them to tramp right up to the Schwartz hideout. Nagi had no particular desire to be branded as a traitor by giving them information they hadn't had before. So he arranged for the American and the German to meet them at a cafe outside the hospital.

All three Weiss assassins were tense and on the edge of their seats as they waited for the Schwartz psychics to show. Finally the bell over the door jangled, and the two men sauntered in as though they didn't have a care in the world. Crawford had his usual superior attitude firmly in place, echoed by Schuldich's ever-present smirk as they approached the table.

"I presume you've got a good explanation for this?" The American asked Nagi in English. The boy shrugged, affecting a bored look.

Schuldich's lambent green eyes flicked over each of them in turn, and his smirk widened into a genuine smile as he began to chuckle. "What is it with you and fluff-brained 'innocents', Nagichen?" he asked, dropping a hand to ruffle the boy's hair in a patronizing manner. "First that Schreient chick with the mind of a five-year-old, and now Sugar-Shock Weiss boy?"

Nagi's eyes narrowed, and Schuldich was forced to take two steps back. The German's smirk turned into a dangerous look. "Don't play your little games with me, brat," he hissed, leaning against some unseen obstacle which kept him from moving back to the table. "I'll tear your mind apart from the inside out."

"Fine." Nagi shrugged again, but there was a glitter deep in his eyes as Schuldich abruptly staggered forward, the force he'd been pushing against vanishing in an instant. The fiery haired telepath growled menacingly, but was brought up short by Crawford's arm against his chest.

"Enough of this," he said in irritation. "Yes, Schuldich, we know you could turn Nagi's brain to mush, and we also know you couldn't do it before he ripped apart every major organ in your body. Now stop posturing at each other so we can get down to business."

Ken leaned over to whisper to Nagi, "Is it always like this?"

Nagi shook his head slightly. "Schu's being unusually civil today," he murmured back. Ken sat back with his eyes wide. Suddenly Aya's coldness and Youji's unceasing teasing didn't seem so bad.

"Omi has been kidnapped by a serial killer," Aya said stiffly, clearly uneasy at dealing with people he considered his enemies. "We've got a little over two days to find him at this point."

"Ho?" Crawford shrugged elegantly, his voice conveying his utter disinterest in the subject. "Why come to us?"

"Because we need Schuldich to find him. The man has been captured, but he's in a coma that he's not going to wake up from. In addition he's got severe brain damage, and he'll be dead in a few days. We have to find the location of his prison."

"And you think we'll help you because...?" Schuldich trailed off with a quirked eyebrow, sounding like he was enjoying having the upper hand over the White Hunters.

"Because you keep telling us we need them alive," Nagi answered, speaking directly to Crawford. "What will happen to your plans if Omi dies now?"

The Schwartz leader frowned and shot his youngest teammate a chilling glare. "I'd like to know just how you got involved in this," he said stiffly, again in English. Ken stifled a snicker. Apparently the American wasn't aware that all the Weiss assassins were more or less fluent in that language.

"I'll tell you how," Schuldich crowed with glee. He looked triumphant at having found something that would put Nagi in Crawford's bad graces. "Your little golden boy here has been cozying up to the Weiss brat for most of the last two months. And apparently he was HELPING him hack for missions for years before that!"

Nagi rolled his eyes. "I didn't know who he WAS," he muttered sullenly. "He was just another hacker on the net. And I met him before Weiss existed, anyway." Schuldich smirked at him.

"And why didn't YOU pick this up from his mind?" Crawford asked Schuldich, startling the telepath. Suddenly the German found himself on the defensive, and it was Nagi's turn to smirk at him.

"Because he's been so wrapped up in himself that he hasn't noticed my shields are nearly as good as yours now," Nagi said. "He hasn't been able to read me in months." The two psychics glared at each other heatedly.

"Enough!" Crawford said again, looking irritated. "We'll discuss this later," he said to Nagi. "As for the rest of you..." he frowned, and his gaze became unfocused, as though he were looking through the walls of the building at something on the far distant horizon.

Finally his gaze focused again, and he removed his glasses to rub at the bridge of his nose as though staving off a headache. "The future is uncertain," he said, sounding slightly wearied. The Weiss assassins were fascinated - they'd never seen him actively using his powers outside of a fight. "This is a decision point. Any small change here will have major repercussions down the line. Only one thing is clear - all futures in which the Takatori brat dies are very grim for both our sides, though I'm not certain why."

"You mean we're actually going to help them?" Schuldich exclaimed in astonishment.

"No, YOU are going to help them," Crawford replied curtly, replacing his glasses. "And believe me, Schuldich - the consequences of failure will be very severe indeed, so keep that in mind when you're tempted to play games with them." He stood, and brushed at some imaginary dirt on his suit jacket. He fixed Nagi with an icy glare. "I expect you BOTH back at headquarters when this is finished. Schuldich, ensure Nagi returns - use force if necessary, but don't injure him permanently. Do you understand?" He asked them both. He got two sullen nods, and he turned on his heel and stalked out of the restaurant.

"Well, that was pleasant," Youji murmured, and Schuldich glared at him.

"Don't push your luck, Weiss," he snarled roughly. "I may have to help you find the brat, but if you piss me off, I'll tell the world your deepest secrets and leave you hanging in the wind."

"Lose the attitude Schuldich," Nagi snapped at him. "We don't have much time. This guy is seriously damaged - even you are going to have trouble getting inside his head."

Schuldich rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Let's see this psychopath of yours, so I can get this over with and go home."

They had to argue with the doctors to get Schuldich admitted to the patient's room, and finally Aya had to call Manx in to clear things. The statuesque red-head frowned at the sight of Schuldich, and he glared at her in return. "Right back at you, bitch," he muttered, flipping her off, though she hadn't said anything.

She gave him a cool look. "I've made the necessary arrangements," she said to Aya. "I hope you boys know what you're doing."

"We're saving Omi's life, hopefully," Youji replied tiredly. "If we have to deal with the devil to do it, so be it."

Manx arranged for their admittance, though Schuldich insisted he be alone in the room with the man. "Having all your thoughts buzzing at me will just confuse things," he told them shortly. "If you have to, watch through that one-way mirror on the wall, but for God's sake try to keep your minds quiet, will you?"

They did as they were told, watching tensely through the window as Schuldich took up position at the head of the bed, resting his hands lightly on the man's temples. He frowned in concentration, then his face went slack.

They watched for several long moments as the two figures remained nearly motionless. Schuldich's breathing had become synchronized with the unconscious killer's, and his eyes were fluttering rapidly beneath his lids.

Nagi frowned after the first five minutes. "Something's wrong," he said, pacing closer to the window. He stared at the two men for a long moment. "He's not usually this quiet. His face should be showing more expression." He moved for the door. "I'm going in."

Since he didn't tell them not to follow him, they all trooped into the room behind him. He moved to lay a hand on the telepath's arm, frowning in alarm when Schuldich didn't move.

"Schuldich. Schuldich! Snap out of it! Dammit!" He glared at the motionless man in the bed. "He's been caught in his mind. Stupid cocky telepath - he didn't bother to set his shields before going in. Schuldich!"

He shook the telepath, then reached up to slap him, hard - then stepped back and concentrated, and Schuldich was slammed back against the wall.

The German gasped and went rigid for a moment, then his eyes snapped open and he slumped to the ground, holding his head and moaning. "Verfluchte," he muttered, sounding like he was in a fair bit of pain. "Even Farfie's not THAT screwed up! Gott..."

Nagi crouched down before him, watching him with dark eyes. "You got stuck," he said quietly. Schuldich glared back at him.

"I know that, asshole!" he snapped back, grimacing. "Gott, that man has the most revolting mind I've ever had the displeasure of touching... it's disgusting."

"Did you find anything?" Ken asked urgently. Schuldich shifted his glare to focus on the ex-soccer player.

"It might take me WEEKS to sift through that... that..." Apparently he was unable to find an adjective vile enough to suit him, because he gave up and waved his hand in the direction of the bed.

"We don't have weeks!" Ken cried, despairing. Schuldich rolled his eyes.

"I can tell you this much. Just before this seizure hit him, he was planning to go somewhere. It's not where he's keeping the kid, but it IS related to it. He's got images of a giant tub, and a bunch of pails of liquid..."

"That would be the bleach," Youji interjected, excited. Schuldich frowned, then nodded slowly.

"Yeah, that would make sense. Explains some of the things he was thinking. Anyway, I think I can pry the location of THAT place out of him relatively easily. Then you can go dig through there while I try to get deeper into his head without driving myself insane." He hauled himself to his feet, but he was unsteady, wobbling slightly.

"I'll stay here to keep you from getting lost again," Nagi said quietly. "I'm the only one who can recognize the signs, and who knows what to do." Schuldich nodded curtly, sinking down into one of the chairs by the bedside.

"So?" Ken demanded impatiently. "Where is this place?"

Schuldich sighed. "Hold your horses, Weiss." He reached out with one hand to touch the man's head again, and this time his face didn't go lax. He pulled away after just a minute.

"He doesn't think of it in terms of streets and buildings, or even concrete directions. He just... knows how to get there." He sighed and raked his hand through his long orange hair. "Either I have to go with you, to show you how to get there, which will take time I could be using to dig into his mind..." he trailed off.

"Or?" Aya prompted him grimly.

"Or I shove it into one of your heads. It'll be a little disorienting, but you'll know basically where to go. Your choice."

"I'll take it," Youji said coming to stand by the telepath's side. "After Omi, I seem to be your favourite person to mess with. I guess having you in my head one more time isn't going to hurt me any now."

Schuldich smirked at him. "That's because you lie to yourself nearly as much - and as convincingly - as the brat," he told him airily. "That makes you both more fun to play with than these two," he waved at Ken and Aya. "Give me your hand."

Youji held out his hand, and Schuldich grasped it tightly, narrowing his eyes. Youji gasped and went rigid, hand gripping Schuldich's convulsively. Ken tensed, but Nagi made no move to interfere, so he didn't either.

Finally Schuldich released the lanky playboy, and Youji stepped back with a gasp, rubbing his temples. "That's going to give me one hell of a headache," he muttered sourly. Schuldich shrugged.

"The mind resents having information forced into it like that," he replied flippantly. "So what are you waiting for?" He turned back to the bedside, clearly dismissing them. Nagi silently wished them luck with his eyes.

Aya drove, Youji sitting in the passenger seat with his eyes half-closed, giving him directions from memory. Ken had to admit that the ability to instantly share information like that could come in handy once in a while, but he didn't envy Youji's experience.

The site, when they reached it, was a solid little brick building in a mostly deserted block of warehouses. There was no security system to speak of, so they broke down the door. Rubbing his shoulder where he'd thrown himself against the door, Youji remarked that Nagi's powers would have been useful.

Aya gave him a cool look. "Don't get too dependent on his abilities," he reminded them harshly. "He's only helping us until we get Omi back."

There was nothing of interest on the first floor, so they filed down the narrow staircase into the basement. There they found what they'd been looking for.

There was a large tub with pails of bleach beside it, as Schuldich had said. There was also a flat table, similar to an operating table, in the center of the room. Boxes and containers of various cosmetics were scattered over the worktable, in every shade imaginable. There were boxes of jewelry and other accessories as well, and dozens of identical dress shoes in every size lined up against one wall. Everything he needed to turn his victims into perfect little dolls. Mixed in with the cosmetics was a small bottle of chloroform, which he presumably used to knock out his intended targets.

What there weren't, were clues to where he was keeping the boys. They searched the room from top to bottom, and found nothing that might lead them to the location of the prison.

Ken paused in front of a little TV monitor that he'd noted before, looking at it. It was the only thing in the room that didn't serve an immediately identifiable purpose. "What, did he like to watch the afternoon soaps while working on his toys?" he asked in frustration.

Youji came over and studied it with him. "Turn it on," he suggested. Ken reached out and did so.

The picture flickered for a moment, then resolved itself, and they both gasped, bringing Aya running. All three stared at the screen in helpless fascination.

The image was of a small room with two glass walls. Inside was a bench and a toilet - and Omi. The boy had somehow jumped up and grabbed hold of a couple of pipes that ran the length of the ceiling, and he was alternately scrabbling at the roof and trying to jam what looked like water spouts on the pipe. The room was about half-filled with water, to the point where it would be nearly at Omi's waist if he were standing on the bench. Thankfully, it didn't seem to be rising at the moment.

"Omi!" Ken whispered in horror. There was no sound, but they could clearly see the look of terrified frustration on their youngest teammate's face as he pounded at the spouts. He'd already jammed about half of them with cloth, apparently torn from his shirt, as that garment was nowhere to be seen.

His mouth opened in a soundless shriek as the spouts abruptly came to life, spraying water in a torrential downpour. His grip slipped, and he fell to splash into the water. Quickly he scrambled up onto the bench, clinging to the wall as the waterline crept upward once more.

He was sobbing, shoulders shaking, tears joining the water running down his face. A few of the jammed spouts held, but most of them quickly soaked through the fabric and continued their rain of death, unchecked. His mouth formed words, and Youji spoke along with him, having learned how to read lips in his days as a private investigator.

"Please, someone, help me..." the playboy whispered, his voice harsh and choked with tears. "Minna-kun, help... oh god..." He turned away, covering his eyes with his hand, trembling. "I can't bear to watch..."

Ken felt tears on his own face as he stared at the screen, unable to bring himself to look away as the water continued its inexorable rising. He found himself praying along with his friend, helpless to do anything else.


	5. Chapter 5

They turned the location over to the police for investigation, but not before hauling Nagi out there so he could put a tap on the video feed. They'd half hoped that he would somehow be able to follow the signal back to its source, but he'd dashed that idea pretty quickly. All they could do was watch, and wait.

Watch Omi, on a nine-inch screen they'd smuggled into the hospital conference room, struggling in the rising water. Watch Schuldich through the one-way mirror, fighting his way through the morass of a madman's mind. Watch as the minutes and hours ticked by, adding inches to the level of the water in the cell.

By the dawn of the fourth day of Omi's imprisonment, they'd all just about given up hope. The youngest Weiss hadn't gotten any sleep in at least two days, and was having to tread water constantly now just to stay afloat. He was clearly exhausted, his strokes beginning to falter occasionally, sending him plunging under the water for a brief moment before he surfaced again, sputtering. Youji and Aya had taken to staying as far away from the monitor as they could, unable to watch their friend's struggle, but Ken and Nagi watched the screen almost obsessively. As Ken put it, "If he dies, even if he has to die thinking he's alone, I won't let him go without someone noticing."

Schuldich wasn't faring much better than Omi. He'd been buried in the killer's mind almost constantly, coming out only occasionally to re-orient himself to the real world. Nagi had told them quietly that what Schuldich was doing was far more dangerous than they realized - there was a very real possibility that the telepath could lose himself forever in the twisted tunnels he was traveling through. The risks he was taking didn't endear him any to the Weiss assassins, since he was clearly doing this against his will, but it did keep them from pushing him quite as hard.

Just as well - the lanky German was worn nearly to a thread, his skin so pale it was translucent, sweating beading up on his forehead. He spent one hour of every five as far away from the man as he could get in the small hospital, trying to pull his scattered thoughts back together. Each time it took him longer to return to himself, and he would spend several minutes staring into space and babbling incoherently in English. Occasionally he'd force himself to sleep for a brief time, and none of the White Hunters could begrudge him that rest. They could all see the toll this was taking on him.

The things he spoke of while wandering the man's mental pathways slowly formed into a disturbing image of a life filled with pain and punishment. The killer had grown up in the 'Deep South' - a place that Schuldich told them apparently referred to somewhere in the southern United States. His parents had been strict and stern, infused by a cold passion for the teachings of the church. They lived their lives as closely in accordance with the bible as they were able, and when they caught their only son engaging in 'the acts of a sodomite', they attempted to 'beat the devil out of him'.

All of the Weiss members were sickened by the story of what the man had lived through in his turbulent childhood, punished again and again for a natural inclination that he could no more have changed, then he could have stopped being male. Already unstable, young Paul Coleman had been pushed over the edge into an insanity in which he believed that his attractions were acts of the devil, tormenting and testing his 'good Christian soul'. He had set out to punish the vehicles 'Satan' sent to tempt him, drowning the evil out of them in a twisted sort of baptism. Then he dressed the 'cleansed' bodies in finery and left them to be found, proud to have rid the world of some of the devil's influence. He had come to Japan when the police in the States came too close to catching him.

Ken had been outraged, ranting during one food break against the depravities of parents who would subject their children to that kind of torture for any reason, much less something they couldn't help. He was brought up short by the twin looks of disbelief on Nagi and Schuldich's faces.

"You're as idealistic as Omi!" Nagi exclaimed, frowning at him. "Do you really believe that kind of thing is so rare?"

Ken blinked at him in shock. "The reason there are so few psychics in the world," Schuldich added wearily from where he was half-slumped over the table, staring blearily into a protein shake, "is because most children have the ability beaten or otherwise crushed out of them at an early age. Those of us who keep our powers are simply too strong to be denied - and most of us are as insane as Farfarello, or worse, because of it."

"For some children all it takes is constant admonitions that they shouldn't tell 'lies' or 'tales'. No one believes in their powers, and they get in trouble for using them, so they learn to suppress them." Nagi poked restlessly at his own dinner. "Eventually suppression becomes truth, and they forget that their ability was ever anything other than childish fancy. For those that don't learn that self-defense mechanism early enough - well, it's amazing how often psychic ability can resemble being 'possessed by a devil', and it's equally amazing what lengths parents will go to in order to 'purify' their child."

The two Schwartz psychics exchanged an identical distasteful look, the closest thing to agreement the White Hunters had seen pass between them. The subject didn't come up again.

At noon on the fourth day, Youji entered the little conference room where they'd set up camp with an armload of food. None of them had been eating much, but they kept making the gestures. He found Aya and Ken watching Nagi, who was staring fixedly at the little television screen. Curious, he moved to see what they were looking at.

The image in the monitor hadn't changed as far as he could see. Omi wasn't swimming any more - the water had gotten high enough that he could latch onto the pipes in the ceiling, and hold onto them to keep himself above water. He dangled limply from them, looking grateful for the reprieve but still terrifyingly aware of his danger. There was only a few feet of space between the water level and the ceiling now, and all the jets had been on full force for the last few hours. It was coming down to the wire, and they were no closer to finding him than they had been when they'd started.

"What's going..." he started, and Ken violently motioned him to be quiet. He fell silent, nonplussed. Aya drew him a few steps away to explain.

"Nagi's trying to use his powers to block the water," he whispered softly. Looking closer, Youji could now see the strain around the telekinetic's wide blue eyes, and the sweat popping out on his skin. There was a tension in the air of the sort just before an electrical storm strikes.

"How can he do that if he doesn't know where Omi IS?" Youji asked in disbelief. Aya shrugged.

"He can't. But that's not stopping him from trying."

Youji understood. All possible leads had been exhausted, and they were well on their way to working through the list of improbable ones. That left only the impossible for them to try - and try it they would, for Omi's sake.

Finally Nagi slumped forward, nearly pitching face-first onto the floor. Ken caught him with a goalie's quick reflexes, supporting him as he struggled to stay upright. He looked frail and exhausted, and tears streaked his pale cheeks. "I can't," he cried despondently. "I can't find them, I don't know where it is. I can't stop it!"

As if reacting to his words, a ringing alarm suddenly sounded, blaringly loud in the confines of the small room. They all jumped, then swung to stare at the window, where every monitor in the patient's room was flashing urgently.

"No!" Nagi forced himself to his feet, staring through the glass. "Schuldich is still in his head! If he dies while they're still connected, he'll take Schu with him!"

Youji wasn't entirely certain that would be such a bad thing, but they followed the boy into the other room anyway. Already the room was crowded with doctors and nurses, and one of them was moving to push Schuldich away from where he was slumped over the man's body.

"No!" Nagi cried at her, then flung his hand out in her direction when she showed no signs of listening. She was thrown back away from the bed with a small cry, followed by all the other medical personnel in the room. They were pinned against the walls, helpless.

"What is the meaning of this?" One of the doctors demanded angrily, struggling against his invisible bonds. "We must check the patient!"

"You can't move him!" Nagi told them fiercely, not releasing them. He padded over to Schuldich, and rested his hand gently on the telepath's cheek. "Schuldich. Schuldich! Wake up, snap out of it! You can't follow him! Schu, come back!" He switched to English, then to what sounded like broken German, poking and prodding at the flame haired telepath frantically.

Feeling a need to help, Youji reached out to touch the motionless man as well. Nagi glanced up with wide eyes, crying, "Don't! You're not shielded!" But it was too late.

Youji was instantly lost in a swirling maelstrom of colours and sounds, scents and feelings. It was impossibly chaotic, but it was also fading, stilling, slowing down even as he watched it. He caught glimpses of the previous victims, as well as some of what Schuldich had told them of the man's past, and his mind instinctively shied away from the foul impressions that embraced those images like a lover's touch.

Somewhere ahead of him, he became aware of a small spark of light, pulsing in time to the madness. Yet somehow, it didn't seem to belong, the pure whiteness of it looking out of place in the riot of colours. It was fading too; its light being drawn away into the dimming pool. He 'reached' for it, not really understanding what he was doing, just knowing that he had to do it.

There was a jolt, then the 'spark' latched onto his 'hand' frantically, using him to pull itself out of the event horizon of the mental black hole. They clung together, and Youji became aware of Schuldich's presence beside him, full of fear and desperation.

Then there was a sickening lurch, and Youji opened his eyes to find himself sprawled out on the floor, Schuldich lying half on him, clutching his physical hand in a death grip. The telepath opened his eyes, chilling emerald meeting verdant jade, and shoved himself away.

"Idiot!" he exclaimed, his voice rough and more than a little shaky. His hand was trembling as he raised it to rake his hair away from his face. "You could have been killed!"

"I was just doing what Nagi was doing," Youji protested feebly, trying to shove himself upright. Ken and Aya assisted him, lifting him up to the chair beside the one Schuldich had recently occupied. Schuldich rose as well, with minimal help from Nagi.

"Nagi is shielded, you stupid altruistic bastard," Schuldich informed him with a snarl. "You could have been sucked in after me."

"I wasn't," he pointed out, though the racing of his heart was emphatically telling him what a close call it had been. "In fact, if I'm not mistaken, I think I saved YOUR life."

Nagi had released the doctors and nurses at this point, but most of them were still hovering out of the way of whatever strange things were going on by the bedside. They weren't really needed anyway - the heart rate monitor was flat-lining, and there was no brain activity registered. The Doll Killer was dead.

"Don't expect me to feel like I owe you, Weiss," Schuldich returned curtly. "I got what you wanted. Just before he died, I finally dug out where he's been keeping the kids."

"Where?!" Ken demanded, his eyes instinctively going to the mirror, though he knew he wouldn't be able to see the screen through the reflection.

"It's an abandoned farmstead out west of Tokyo," the telepath informed them wearily. "The system is completely automated, so that he doesn't have to risk detection by going out there too often. That's why the water is still rising. It'll take about an hour to get there by car."

"We don't have an hour," Nagi replied grimly. "The room will be filled in half an hour at most."

"Then I suggest, Nagichen, that you learn how to fly." Schuldich gave him a shadow of his usual smirk.

Aya was already at the door to the room. "I'll arrange for a helicopter with Manx," he snapped back over his shoulder. "Meet me on the roof, at the hospital landing pad." He vanished into the hallway, moving at a dead run.

 

* * *

Omi panted for what air was left in the increasingly tiny space between the water and the ceiling. He had his face pressed flat against the cold concrete of the ceiling, one arm hooked tightly around one of the pipes to keep him there. The nozzles were all underwater now, which meant that at least the spray of water into his face had stopped. He knew that what was left of his life could be measured in minutes, and he struggled against the sobs that threatened to choke him prematurely.

He didn't know why he was still fighting so hard to hang onto the last sliver of life. The others weren't coming, that much was obvious. However much he had cried and shouted and prayed, they hadn't been able to hear him, and apparently Kami-sama wasn't listening either. A tiny part of him could appreciate the irony of a White Hunter being slain by the very beast he had hunted, but the rest of him was screaming silently in terror.

He didn't want to die! He had so much left to live for. Even with everything that had happened to him in his short life, there were still so very many good things, things that he'd never appreciated properly while he had them.

He thought of Ken, and the ex-soccer player's unstoppable enthusiasm for everything he did. That enthusiasm could have its dark side occasionally, getting him too wrapped up in the secret life he led as Siberian. But most of the time it was a shining, joyful thing, always ready with a kind word or helping hand to his kids or anyone else who asked.

He thought of Aya, of the red head's unflappable coolness and the distance he kept between himself and his teammates. Omi thought he might have been beginning to bridge that distance, a little, and he hoped that the others would carry on where he'd left off. Aya was like an older brother to him, and he would do anything to see the solemn man be happy.

He thought of Youji, the eternal playboy, and his constant teasing. Suddenly all the crude jokes and innuendo seemed much less annoying, and more a part of Youji's charm. His flippant manner hid a very sharp mind, and a very hurt soul, still grieving for the loss of a beloved partner whose death he blamed on himself. He too had been like a brother, taunting and teasing but always there when he really needed him.

Most of all he thought of Nagi. There was still a part of him that couldn't believe he'd fallen in love with the reticent telekinetic. But his enemy/friend had been so hurt, so wounded, and Omi had known that he could make much of that pain disappear simply by caring about him. Nagi hadn't known much love in his short, turbulent life, and Omi had been determined to make up for that. The boy had responded like a flower opening to the sun, making his efforts more than worth it. Omi rather thought he hadn't been far from convincing his lover to leave Schwartz's dark influence, and he prayed that Nagi wouldn't slide back into hatred with his death.

The last breath of air was vanishing now, and Omi drew in as deep a lungful as he could get. He let go of the pipe and floated free, both hands clamped over his mouth and nose in an attempt to beat off the reflex to breathe. It was a futile gesture, his lungs already burning from lack of oxygen and fighting to get him to draw in air, unwilling to listen to his brain telling them that there was nothing but water out there. It would buy him a few seconds at best - but every second was precious. As he waited for the inevitable moment when instinct would overcome him, he stared at the camera, silently willing them to catch the man responsible for his death before any more innocents could die.

 

* * *

They impressed their sense of urgency on the Kritiker helicopter pilot so effectively that he pushed the machine to its limits, the engine whining in protest. The cityscape flew by beneath them, gradually giving way to open land, then to fields. Schuldich, still recovering from his brush with death, was leaning over the side, belted firmly in place against the seat, giving directions based on landmarks only he could recognize.

Finally, finally, they touched down outside an abandoned farmhouse. The building was two stories and still in fairly good shape, though the barn behind it was rotting and tumbling down. A tall corn silo still towered over the remains of the barn, graceful in its solitude.

The pilot remained with the helicopter, ready to fly them back to the hospital the moment they found Omi. Even in the best of scenarios, the boy would be suffering exposure and shock, and possibly damage from lack of oxygen. No one allowed themselves to consider the possibility that they might already be too late.

Schuldich was spent, unable to tell them anything more than that Omi was definitely on the property somewhere, and wasn't dead yet, though if the terror he felt was any indication, he would be soon. He stayed in the chopper with the pilot, too shaky to walk. He would only get in the way of the search.

They split up, Nagi and Ken searching through the barn, while Youji and Aya raced through the house. Nagi used his powers indiscriminately, throwing aside debris in a frantic hunt for the hidden door that would take them to Omi's cell.

There was nothing, in the barn or the house. They met in the back yard, all four wearing identical looks of frantic frustration. "Where IS it?" Ken demanded of the world at large, heart clenching in his chest at the knowledge that every second of delay could make the difference between Omi's life and death.

Youji glared around the yard as if the bare earth would give him the clue he needed. Abruptly he straightened, eyes wide. "The silo!" he exclaimed. They all bolted for the tower.

There was no door - Nagi blasted them one, tearing a huge chunk of aluminum siding away and tossing it aside. They found themselves looking into an echoingly empty space with a simple dirt floor. Youji slumped, defeated.

"NO!" Nagi cried, snarling. With a gesture, the ground at their feet heaved upwards, dirt spraying everywhere as he tore the earth apart. When the choking dust cleared, they found themselves looking down into a dark room. There were stairs against one wall, apparently leading to a trap door concealed in the ground on the other side of the silo. Directly beneath them was a camera on a tripod, and across from it was a lighted cell with two clear walls, full of water. The top was covered in concrete, a hatch in the center sealed with several iron bars and various locks.

"Omi!" Ken was the first one into the hole, taking the ten foot drop with ease, flexing his knees to take the impact and rolling. He came up to his feet just inches from the clear wall, and he pounded on it in frustration. He could see Omi within, floating in the center of the room near the top, both hands clamped over his mouth. At the vibrations his pounding made, the boy's eyes flew open, and Ken cheered inwardly as he realized his friend was still alive.

The relief was short-lived - even as he watched, Omi lost the battle to hold his breath, a stream of bubbles rushing from him as his body forcefully expelled the last of his air. His lungs struggled to draw their next breath, pulling in only water. Omi gave a soundless cry and thrashed once before stilling, his eyes sliding closed as he drifted limply in the water.

"OMI!" He pounded on the wall again, ignoring the insistent tugging on his shoulder.

"Ken!" Nagi's piercing voice finally broke through his helpless rage. "Get away from the wall, dammit!"

He let Aya and Youji pull him away, eyes wide, as Nagi took a deep breath and focused on the thick plastic. The telekinetic was almost out of energy, which was why he hadn't simply knocked Ken away from the wall with his powers. As it was, he might not have enough power left to smash through the heavy wall.

The three Weiss members watched in sick fascination as the wall bulged first inward, then outward, as Nagi fought to crack it. For a long moment, it didn't look like he was going to be able to break through, and Ken dropped to his knees in despair, eyes locked on Omi's motionless figure.

Then with a deafening 'crack', the wall split, shattering into a thousand tiny shards of plastic. The water rushed out in a wave, pouring from the cell to flood the rest of the room, leaving them all waist deep in water. Nagi gave a little sigh and pitched forward, stopped from sliding under the water by Youji. Ken and Aya sloshed forward, hurrying to where Omi still lay in the water of the cell.

The hauled him over onto his back, and got him propped up against Ken, sitting on the bench, so that his head and shoulders were out of the water. He was limp against them, not making any effort to breathe, but Ken wasn't ready to give up yet.

"Tilt him on his side," he directed Aya, frantically searching his mind for the small bit of first aid he knew. "We need to make the water drain from his lungs!"

"Here," Nagi said hoarsely, splashing up to them, half-leaning on Youji. "Let me." He hovered his hands over his lover's chest, and concentrated. A rush of water suddenly poured out of Omi's nose and open mouth, his chest visibly sinking as his lungs emptied. When the water had slowed to an almost imperceptible trickle, Nagi took his hands away.

Still Omi made no move to breathe on his own. Ken was terrified that they might have been just an instant too late. He knew that none of them would ever forgive themselves if they'd failed to save the boy by less than a minute.

He propped Omi up against his arm, using his free hand to pinch the boy's nose shut. He leaned over and locked lips with him, forcing air into his lungs. Raising his head to gasp for breath, he saw Nagi replace his hands on Omi's chest as he bent over again.

He couldn't feel Nagi's hands moving, and yet he was dimly aware of the slow beat of Omi's heart. Rather than using the crude CPR method of pumping Omi's heart by pushing hard on his chest, Nagi was forcing the organ to beat by wrapping his powers around it and squeezing rhythmically.

It seemed they worked together like that for an eternity, Aya and Youji holding Omi steady while the two younger boys frantically struggled to save their friend's life. At last, just as Ken was despairing and ready to give up, Omi drew breath of his own volition.

He choked and coughed, the last dribbles of water coming up as he struggled for air. Ken tilted him on his side again, and the boy clutched at his legs, breathing in great ragged gulps of life-giving air.

"K-ken?" he croaked, eyes slitting open in confusion. "You... you came..."

"Baka!" Ken exclaimed, unable to say more around the tears clogging his throat.

"Of course we came, bishounen," Youji drawled, more than a hint of huskiness in his own voice. "Nagi here's not a bad substitute for you on a mission, but he doesn't have any of your sparkling personality to recommend him."

Omi blinked at him, confused, then swung his bleary gaze to where Nagi was slumped against Aya, the taller boy being the only thing holding the exhausted telekinetic upright. "Nagi! What... how..." He coughed again, and shivered violently in Ken's arms.

Nagi placed gentle fingers on his lover's lips. "Don't try to talk, itoushi," He murmured softly. "It's a long story, and I'll tell you later. We need to get you back to the hospital."

But Omi wasn't satisfied with promises of later details. "Did you... ugh... did you get him?"

"He's dead," Aya told him, and Omi relaxed at last.

"Yokatta," he whispered, and let Ken lift him into his arms to carry him out of the room. They made their way back to the helicopter, and by the time they reached it, Omi was fast asleep, feeling sheltered and safe for the first time in four days.

The trip back to the hospital was uneventful, Schuldich and Nagi being far too tired to snipe at each other in their usual fashion. They waited long enough to see Omi safely ensconced in a hospital room of his own, and to hear the doctors declare that he would be just fine with a little rest. Then Nagi sighed, his shoulders slumping, and he jerked his head at the door, indicating that Schuldich should precede him. "Let's go," he said tiredly. "Might as well face the music."

Schuldich didn't budge from where he was leaning against the wall, watching his teammate with unusually warm green eyes. "You know," he replied casually, affecting a bored look as he examined his fingernails. "It's a damn good thing you're not going to try to get away from me on the way back. Because, I'm damned if I'd be able to do anything to stop you. I doubt I've got enough strength to influence a cat, the way I feel right now." He glanced up through his lashes to see if Nagi had understood him.

The telekinetic was gaping at him, floored. "Schu... he'll kill you."

The German shrugged away from the wall, and moved stiffly towards the door. "Nah. He'll just be pissed off, which is entertaining in and of itself. You know how I love getting him riled. Just make sure you're back by tomorrow, because I'll be recovered by then and I WILL come hunting for you to drag your sorry ass back." He paused at the door, winking back over his shoulder at his stunned teammate. "And don't say I never did anything for you, kid." With that he was gone, leaving only the impression of his smirk hanging in the air like the Cheshire cat.

Nagi just shook his head, and collapsed back down into his chair at Omi's head. "What do you know," he muttered under his breath, not so softly that Ken couldn't hear him. "The bastard has a heart after all."

"Or maybe he's just saving up to blackmail you later?" Omi suggested in a rusty voice, opening his eyes and smiling softly at the boy beside him. Nagi took his hand gently, laughing.

"Probably. That would certainly be more in character for him," he agreed. Ken had to admit that when Nagi laughed like that, expression open and eyes smiling, he looked like any normal teenager, not dangerous at all.

Omi glanced up at his teammates, blushing slightly. "You guys... are okay with this?" He asked shyly, nodding at their joined hands.

Youji snorted. "Put it this way, kiddo. If we'd found out any other way - there'd probably have been a hell of a lot of fights and arguments."

"But the fact is, we'd never have found you without his help," Aya added, his usual coldness softened considerably as he looked at the two boys.

"And God knows he sure seems to care about you," Ken put in his two cents, raising one hand to scratch at the back of his head in embarrassment. "Besides... you two are kinda cute together."

Omi's sunny smile was all the thanks they needed, telling them without words just how much he wanted and needed their love and support. But the icing on the cake was Nagi's own hesitant smile, the first real indication for the end of hatred and loneliness in a heart that had never known caring, until a certain blue-eyed Hunter had charged into his life.

It just might, Ken thought softly to himself, be something of a new start for all of them. And if it had taken a serial killer and the near-death of their most beloved teammate to bring them to this point - well, they would just appreciate it all the more for its preciousness.


End file.
